


Valentine

by kissing2cousins



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Roses, Surprises, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 21:33:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5981647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissing2cousins/pseuds/kissing2cousins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's pre-date nerves annoy Sherlock to the point of banishing the man from the flat. After he leaves Sherlock gets an unexpected surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> This little ficlet was the result of an entertaining dream. Hope you all enjoy!  
> ~ Also I have finally gotten around to a basic edit. ~

He watched out of the corner of his eye as John smoothed down his brown jacket one more time in nervousness. The doctor glanced at his watch for the forty third time in the last twenty minutes before beginning to pace the space between his chair and the door once more. He would shove his hands into his pockets for proximately thirty six seconds before wrenching them out and smoothing his jacket once more.

Sherlock lay sprawled across his chair, one leg dangling off the side, the other planted fully on the ground. As he lounged there he disinterestedly plucked at the strings of the violin half cradled in his lap. “Leave John, you are becoming irritating.” He flicked his index finger across the E string several times, enjoying the high note.

John spun around, seemingly startled by the words he had just spoken. “If I leave now then I will be early, I don’t want to look desperate!” He growled the words even as he resumed his annoying pacing. Five steps, pause, turn, five steps.

He sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes at the older man as he continued plucking at strings. “You are desperate.” He pointed it out even though it was obvious. Perhaps if he encouraged John the man would just go away and stop pacing like a demented gerbil. “It doesn’t matter, she is as well.” Was that enough information for him to leave? 

A glance at the doctor proved it was not as the man continued pacing, not even slowing his strides. Deciding that elaborating would get the man out of his hair and save his sanity he continued. “You are guaranteed to get shagged if you bring her those ridiculous flowers and chocolates. If you leave now you won’t even have to buy dinner first.” 

Finally John stopped. He turned to face Sherlock fully, surprise written clearly across his face. “Really?”

He glared. It was obvious the woman was desperate to anyone who could see, John should really just learn to take his word for it. Abruptly standing he turned and walked to the window, neatly maneuvering around the piles of books and papers he had chaotically scattered along the way. As he moved he snatched up the bow he’d left laying on his desk and placed it to the strings. 

Sherlock stood like that for a few minutes, just staring out into the evening street. John had begun his pacing again which was his cue. Slowly he ran the bow across the strings, a slow melody beginning. 

John’s steps slowed as the piece began to build. The song was one of his own compositions, low and drawn out, wrenching at the heart. It only took a couple minutes of this before the other man finally made his way to the door and left.

Finally, he thoughts as his fingers and bow lovingly drifted over the violin, coaxing out the rich notes. It was a beautiful piece and he allowed himself to relax into the haunting melody, eyes closing and body weaving as he immersed himself into the song. 

Time passed, though Sherlock wasn’t sure exactly how long as he transitioned from one song to the next before he heard knocking at his door. Two knocks. Firm hand. Not a client, but also not one of his associates. He hadn’t heard the stairs, so a slighter individual, one who knew how to balance properly. He stopped playing mid-note as interest sparked.

Gently placing the violin and bow in their case with a care he used for very few things Sherlock made his way to the door. Opening it he had anticipated many things, even the slight possibility of Irene, considering what day it was. He did not anticipate the form who stood before him however.

Jim Moriarty smiled, warm brown eyes dancing in delight. “Hi.” The word came out in a singsong tone. The Westwood suit he wore looked slightly rumpled, as though he’d run, though his hair was slicked back, not a hair out of place. His left hand was coiled around the stems of a bouquet of blood red roses, his right idly tapping out a pattern onto a small wrapped package.

Sherlock just stared at the man for a long moment, his mind racing through possible reasons for his Nemesis to be lounging on his doorstep. His eyes narrowed as they moved over the man, taking everything in, trying to figure him out. “You realize that the police are on their way by this point.” Since their last interaction, his brother would have more surveillance on the off chance that something like this would happen. 

The lines around Jim’s eyes crinkled as he smiled wider. “Oh I know. Daddy can’t stay long, too much to do. It can be so tedious being popular.” The other genius sighed dramatically and shrugged. “ But before I go, a gift!” With a flash of teeth he held out the box and flowers.

With a caution he normally didn’t feel Sherlock reached out and took the proffered items. ‘To my Dearest Sherlock, Love M’ was written across the envelope taped to the box. By the weight, feel and sound as he accepted the package he knew it to be a box of chocolates. Expensive by the rich scent of cocoa that wafted up through the wrapping.

Sherlock opened his mouth, but Jim winked, that grin spreading even wider. Before anything more could be said he began backing to the stairwell. “Enjoy!” At that Moriarty turned and began descending the steps, swagger in his stride as he hummed the tune ‘Staying Alive’.

Once the man was out of sight and the downstairs door banged shut he slowly closed his own door. Sherlock’s brows knitted together as he stared at the objects in his hand. Flowers and chocolate, on Valentines day. Shaking his head he made his way to the kitchen. 

Dropping the box on the table he moved to the oven and pulled out a pitcher filled with river water and scraps of cloth. Dumping the contents into the sink he ran clean water for a quick rinse. Filling it he placed the bouquet in and set it beside the box.

Licking his lips, Sherlock extracted the envelope from the box and opened it, sliding the card out. A flaming heart blazed across the front. His fingers gently trailed over the image, feeling the ridges from layers of ink and pressure. Hand crafted, exquisite care was put into the making of this. The drawing on the front must have taken hours to complete, he thought as he studied the overlapping of shades.

Fingers caressing the ink, Slowly opened the card. Stark white. The left side read ‘I’ll burn you’ the elegant penmanship done with a Monteverde, medium nib fountain pen. The right ‘I’ll burn the heart out of you…’

Looking from the card to the flowers Sherlock couldn’t help himself. He smiled.  
~Fin~


End file.
